


Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

by cfcureton



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), olicity - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22567300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cfcureton/pseuds/cfcureton
Summary: A Goodbye Olicity Gift for Erin (canadianbeauty2).
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 46
Kudos: 186





	Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

“But—“

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do.”

The ticket agent didn’t look sorry. She looked more anxious than anything, and who could blame her? The skies outside the airport terminal were actually turning green. 

Felicity huffed a frustrated sigh. “What about tomorrow?”

A snarky smile appeared and then vanished from the other woman’s face. 

“The airport won’t be open tomorrow. Or the next day. We’ll be lucky to be operational by the end of the week.” She stuck a hand on her hip behind the counter. “I suggest you find a hotel to hunker down in. Preferably on a high floor.”

The woman looked away then, back to her paperwork, back to shutting down her terminal so she and her fellow employees could skedaddle home as soon as they were given the go ahead. 

Felicity swallowed a very explicit swear word. 

She knew eastern seaboard hurricanes weren’t uncommon this time of year, she just never imagined one would hit while she happened to be in town. Sure, the labs at Wayne Enterprises had seemed empty these last couple of days, but she’d been too busy to ask why, and what little she’d been outside the weather hadn’t seemed all that threatening. It rained all the time in Gotham. 

By the time she’d realized she should get out of Dodge all the outbound flights that could make it before the storm hit had departed and her return ticket was useless; refunds weren’t an option for cancellations due to weather. Which she’d just learned.

Felicity snatched the handle of her rolling bag and yanked it up as she spun on her heel—there had to be another solution to this problem—and walked straight into a solid wall. Wearing a plaid shirt.

“Oof,” she said, staggering back a step with her glasses knocked askew. The wall had a hand, and it reached out to cover hers on the handle of the suitcase, stopping her in case she fell.

“You okay?” The wall had a nice voice. Too bad she was not in the mood to appreciate it.

“I’m fine. Sorry.”

“No problem. Did you have any luck?” 

“None.” Felicity set her glasses right and finally looked up. The wall had piercing blue eyes, a good amount of scruff, and tousled hair that was either perfectly haphazard or intensively styled. 

The head tilt was a nice touch. 

“Are you trying to get out too?” she asked.

“No, I just like hanging out at airports during natural disasters.” He shrugged both shoulders the slightest bit. “It’s a hobby.”

Great. A comedian. She rolled her eyes internally and steered around him, determined not to let anything distract her from finding another way out of this city. The click of her heels was almost the only sound as she marched through the echoing terminal to the car rental counter. 

Only one employee manned the long line of counter space; he was at the very end, of course. He looked up with bored eyes as Felicity approached. 

“I need a car, please.” 

The clerk regarded her briefly before shuffling through a stack of papers. “You’re in luck. I have one left.”

She sighed with relief even as she heard the zing of suitcase wheels approaching from behind. She couldn’t help glancing that direction to get a look at the poor bastard who’d just missed out on escaping the city. 

It was the wall. 

The paperwork slapped onto the counter as Felicity handed over her credit card and snatched up a pen, eager to get on the road. She was halfway through initialing all the boxes when the machine beeped and she heard the clerk grunt.

“Your card’s declined.”

“What?”

He tossed it back on the counter.

“Looks like it’s expired,” he offered by way of explanation.

Dread flooded her veins. Oh, Frack. She could picture the new one, sitting on her kitchen counter at home. She’d meant to activate it before she left. 

The clerk must’ve read the expression on her face because he shot her a mildly incredulous look. “You don’t have another one?”

“No,” she moaned. “I only carry one.”

She heard the guy behind her shift his weight. 

“We take cash,” the clerk offered.

“Here.”

A hand reached around her from behind and laid a card on top of her paperwork. Felicity’s eyes went wide.

“No, I—“

“We both need out of here ASAP. There’s only one car. We can share.”

She whipped around so fast her ponytail flew. He met her eyes and smiled benignly.

Felicity’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times, fish-like, as she tried to come up with an excuse to say no. She saw his eyes shift to glance at her mouth and her spine straightened in indignation. 

“I don’t think it would be appropriate, under the circumstances.”

His smile never faltered. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think you have much of a choice. The airport’s closing, and no hotel will take your expired credit card either.” He spread his hands and waited. 

Felicity’s shoulders dropped, defeated, and she turned to finish signing her name. 

“Fine. But I’m driving.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The car was easy to spot in the otherwise empty lot. It was sporty. And red. Felicity suppressed an eye roll. He fit both their bags in the trunk—barely—without comment and waited patiently for her to unlock the doors before squeezing into the passenger seat. 

She was putting the key in the ignition when it hit her. 

“This isn’t going to work.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a stick shift. I can’t drive a manual.”

The dread was back. She held her breath to keep from crying and scanned the empty space around her, praying this was just a crazy mistake and there was another vehicle waiting for her. 

“Can you?” she asked, still looking around.

“Can I what?”

“Drive a stick.”

“I can.” Did he sound a little hesitant? Felicity looked at him. 

“So I’ll go back and add your name to the rental agreement and then you can drive. C’mon.”

She was already unbuckling her belt, but he hadn’t moved. 

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t have my license.”

“You’re traveling out of town but you don’t have your license?”

He shook his head no once.

“How does that even happen? Never mind. We don’t have time. What do I do first?”

He stared at her, dumbfounded. 

“You want out of Gotham before this hurricane hits? Then teach me how to drive a manual.” 

He studied her for half a second, expressionless. “It would help if I knew your name.”

Her eyes crinkled at the corners in a frown as she studied him. “First names only.”

He nodded acceptance soberly.

“I’m Felicity.”

“Oliver. Nice to meet you.”

“Tell me.”

“Okay. Before you turn the key, make sure you’re in neutral. The pedal all the way to the left is the clutch...”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you learn everything this fast?”

“Probably. Why?”

“No reason. It’s just...impressive.”

“Thanks. I think.”

Felicity rolled up to the stop sign at the entrance to the parking lot and looked both directions to check for traffic. “And we’re off.”

“Wait!” His hand fell to cover hers on the gear shift and she jumped in surprise. “Where are we going?”

“To the nearest airport that’s still open.”

“No, I mean ultimately. Where are you heading?”

Felicity studied him. What if he was up to no good, this one? Her mother hadn’t raised a fool. Still...

“Starling City,” she offered after a beat. 

His eyes lit with surprise. “Great! Me too.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

She squinted at him, suspicious. “Nothing.” She checked both ways again and eased the sporty little car out into the street. “Let’s go.”

Oliver looked uneasy. “You’re sure you have to fly?”

“Fly? Yes. It’s how I got out here, so it’s how I’m getting back.”

“But I can’t.” The gears ground a little. “I think you missed second.”

Felicity grunted. “Fully aware.” They pulled up to a stop light at the entrance to the airport and waited for it to turn green. “Do I get on the highway from here?”

“Am I supposed to know?”

“You’re the navigator.”

Oliver sighed but logged into his phone. “We should have a plan.”

“We have a plan. Closest open airport. That’s the plan.”

“What about a train?”

“A train?!”

“Yes. We could take the train.”

“Like hobos?!”

“There are still passenger trains in the 21st century, Felicity.”

“Nope. No way. I have to be in Starling by Friday, no exceptions. I can’t poke across country by TRAIN.”

“Okay, hear me out. Today’s Monday. It’s a twelve hour drive to Chicago. I have a buddy who’ll put us up for the night. From there it’s two days by train. Or,” he waved a hand around, “you can get yourself a flight outta O’Hare. Either way we’re back in Starling by Thursday at the latest. Straight ahead to the on ramp.”

The light turned, and they rolled forward while Felicity made weird faces and fought with the gear shift. “Ungh.” 

“Just think about it. The closest major airport that’s still open is probably in Pennsylvania anyway. We’ve got time.”

Traffic was heavy but moving as the last evacuees headed out of Gotham. They entered the highway and picked up speed, and Felicity shifted into fifth for the first time.

“Smooth. Good job.”

“Thanks. So tell me, when you showed up at the airport this morning you were planning to, what, use your boyish charm to get on a flight without government-issued ID?”

“First of all, I’ve never heard anyone younger than my mother use the phrase ‘boyish charm’.”

Felicity rolled her eyes. “Second?”

“Second, I didn’t lose my license until late last night, so I haven’t exactly had a lot of time to come up with an alternate plan.”

“No passport?”

“Didn’t expect to leave the country so didn’t bring it.”

“Guess that rules out taking any shortcuts through Canada.”

“Funny.”

Ten miles passed below the tires with neither of them speaking. Felicity watched him from the corner of her eye; he had his shirt sleeves rolled up and his jeans cuffed. Casual but very tidy. How his profile could be just as good as looking at him head on she would never know. Normal people never got that lucky.

His thumbs danced around his phone screen before he glanced up. Her eyes flicked away and she prayed she hadn’t been caught looking. 

“My friend is willing to put us up if we decide to drive to Chicago.”

Felicity’s nails tapped the steering wheel in a rapid pattern while she mulled over her choices. “Okay. We’re heading west in any event, so see if you can find me a flight from anywhere closer than Chicago. Otherwise we’ll plan to stay with your friend. Deal?”

Oliver nodded once and got to work on his phone.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She’d expected—probably irrationally—traffic to thin dramatically as soon as they left the city, but the lines of cars and trucks only increased as they caught up to the myriad of people who had left the path of the storm in a reasonable time frame. Before long the westbound lanes had slowed to a crawl.

“Ugh, okay. Tell me again why people drive manuals on purpose,” she muttered, down shifting as taillights lit up in front of her. The sky was no longer green here, but the rain had started a few miles back and the air felt heavy. 

“Bad news, I’m afraid. No flights until we get to Cleveland, and those are going fast. It’s only five more hours to Chicago from there, and a free night’s stay.”

Felicity spared him a glance and then wished she hadn’t; those eyebrows lifted in question and the faint puppy dog expression were her undoing. She sighed like a martyr.

“Fine. But I get my own bed.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours passed. She discovered they liked the same music, or rather Oliver seemed to have no opinion on her tastes either way, so she didn’t have to pull rank to choose the radio station. He filled the car without asking, and always brought back some snack or treat she didn’t ask for when he returned from paying. 

Interstate traffic was back to normal, mostly just them and the big trucks, and Felicity was so grateful not to have to think about when to shift she wanted to fist pump. 

“I could drive,” he offered once.

“That wouldn’t be legal.”

“It would only be a problem if we got pulled over, which I would never let happen.”

“Pulled over or involved in an accident.”

“Well that’s morbid.”

“That’s reality. I prefer being realistic. It keeps you from being disappointed.”

Oliver was quiet then, staying so still she risked a glance at him. He was studying her.

“Have you always been this way?”

“What way?”

“Closed off. Cynical.”

Felicity’s mouth dropped open in shock. “I am NOT closed off. I have lots of friends. Many friends. A few...select...close friends. And ‘realistic’ and ‘cynical’ are two very different things.”

“Is that so.”

“Yes. People find me quite charming.”

“People.”

She shot him a look. “Historically.”

This conversation was going nowhere good very quickly. Felicity could feel the beginnings of a babble bubbling up from her chest, and she didn’t dare let that happen.

“We need to find a place to stop.” He said it in such an authoritative way she took her eyes off the road to stare at him. The nerve of him, ordering her like that.

“Look, Mister—“

“Felicity, you’ve been driving practically non-stop for hours. You need to eat.”

She waved the half-eaten candy bar in her lap at him in illustration, but he only huffed an annoyed sigh.

“Real food. You need an actual meal, and time to move around. And relax.”

“In my family, the driver gets to decide when and where we stop.”

“Well in mine, the person paying makes the final call.” She was in the process of passing a semi so she could only throw a quick glare at him, but she didn’t miss the raised eyebrow he was giving her back. “The next exit has restaurants.”

“Fine. But only if it’s fast food.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He chose a sit-down restaurant. Felicity sat on her side of the booth and tried to hold on to her annoyance, but everything on the menu looked amazing and she was so relieved not to be moving she wanted to weep with gratitude. When she glanced up Oliver was staring at her over his menu.

“What?”

“Nothing.” His eyes flicked down.

“What are you going to get?”

She watched him purse his lips as he considered. “The Monte Cristo, I think. You?”

“An omelet sounds good. I can always go for breakfast.” He grunted agreement without looking up.

The server came and went, and then Oliver leaned back and stretched his arms out across the back of the seat. He had an impressive wingspan, she noted. And those lovely ropey veins peeking out from under his sleeves—

“So what’s waiting in Starling that has you rushing home?”

Small talk now? Great. Okay. Felicity took a sip of water to stall. 

“I have, um, a presentation Friday. A present—a pres—an interview.” She shrugged and tried to pretend her face wasn’t turning red. “I have an interview.”

“An interview.”

“Yes.”

“For a job.”

“Yes for a job. What else?”

His brow knit in concentration. “You just didn’t seem sure.”

“It’s very, um, it’s a big step for me. You know, a challenge. Growth.” She shook her head enough to flick her ponytail over her shoulder and couldn’t meet his eye. “I’m excited about it.”

“Yes. You look thrilled.”

If this conversation didn’t end immediately Felicity was going to actually die. “I’m gonna go wash my hands,” she declared, already scooting out of her seat.

The food was on the table by the time she returned, and they ate with little comment. Oliver made her get dessert, even after she protested that she was disgustingly full. When the check was paid he ushered her from the restaurant but snagged her arm to drag her three laps around the building to shake everything out.

“Anything else, Coach?” she quipped as she rounded the front of the car to unlock the doors. He rolled his eyes, but she also thought she caught the hint of a smile as he ducked to get in on his side.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Oliver quizzed her on trivia he unearthed on his phone, and once she’d explained the concept of Mad Libs to him, he went searching for those too. The sun was beginning to set when they pulled into the last rest stop before the final push to Chicago.

“C’mon, Felicity, get those knees up,” he ordered, jogging in place in front of her on the sidewalk by the restrooms. 

“Oliver, this isn’t funny.”

“You don’t wanna get a blood clot from sitting too long in one position.”

“People are staring.”

“Let ‘em.”

Felicity called him a name under her breath but bounced around as instructed. Across the parking lot a trucker blew his horn in appreciation and she threw a hand out in that general direction.

“You see what you’ve done?!”

Oliver grinned and the sight of it made her a little light headed. She told herself it was all the jogging.

A little before 10pm they pulled up to a big house in a nice suburban neighborhood; a McMansion, her mother would call it. Fittingly, Felicity killed the car in the driveway by accident, but neither of them commented as it shuddered to a halt, preferring to stare out the windshield at nothing. 

“That...was a long day,” she said finally.

“Agreed.” He sighed. “Don’t forget the hand brake.”

“Yup.”

Oliver carried her suitcase up to the porch without being asked as a tall handsome stranger waited at the door. The two men hugged unabashedly while she stood a step below them, looking away discretely to allow them their moment.

“Tommy, Felicity.” Oliver made the introductions with a motion of his head, his arms being full. Tommy smiled and stepped back to allow them to pass.

“Welcome. It’s not often we get hurricane refugees this far west.” Tommy’s smile was rakish but friendly. “Guest room’s up and to the right. Bathroom’s across the hall.”

Oliver set his suitcase down in the foyer and gestured with hers. “I’ll put this up there for you.”

Felicity saw Tommy’s eyebrow twitch up in surprise and suddenly felt weird and exhausted and done with everything.

“Thank you for your hospitality. I’m gonna go up now.”

She caught Oliver glancing back at her from the stairs but ignored him in favor of shaking her host’s hand and wishing him a good night.

“You okay?” Oliver asked quietly as she trailed him into the bedroom.

“Fine. Just tired.”

“You did an amazing job today. I still can’t believe how fast you picked up driving a stick.”

“Thank you...for paying my way here and...for finding us a bed. Beds. A bed and a couch. Whatever.”

Oliver chuckled at her accidental innuendo, but she could tell he was worn out too.

“Good night, Felicity. Sleep well. I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything.”

He showed himself out and closed the door as he went, and for the first time since the morning she thought about how crazy it was that she was trusting this virtual stranger—and now his friend—with her wellbeing. 

Felicity got ready for bed and was out by the time her head hit the pillow. 

Below her the low drone of male voices catching up carried on late into the night.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took Felicity a full minute the next morning to remember why she was waking up in a strange bedroom. 

“Oh God,” she muttered to no one as she collected her shower things and peeked out into the hall before scurrying to the bath. The house was silent. 

Felicity repacked her suitcase and perched on the bed to collect herself and check for flights out of O’Hare. She could get enough cash out of an ATM to cover a plane ticket, and then she’d arrange to repay Oliver for her share of the car rental and her meals. She could be home by dinner tonight. Easy peasy. 

A door downstairs closed and male voices drifted up the stairs, so she set her phone aside without picking a flight and went in search of breakfast.

The house was nice, a little on the bachelor pad side, maybe, but clean enough. It appeared Tommy lived here alone. 

The man in question was perched on a bar stool at the kitchen island in sweats and a tee shirt, laughing at something Oliver was saying as he scrambled eggs in a skillet. It was such a domestic scene Felicity thought maybe she’d been under the wrong impression about her traveling companion. It was a strangely disappointing discovery. 

“Morning,” Tommy offered brightly. “Pull up a stool.”

“How do you like your eggs?” Oliver asked. His hair was mussed from sleep, but even the flat spot on the side was endearingly sexy. Stop it, she admonished herself sharply. He’s gay.

“I’m not, actually. Scrambled okay, or would you like another omelet?”

Oliver turned away smoothly to plate the current batch as Felicity’s jaw unhinged. Fracking frack, she’d said that out loud. Tommy was grinning openly at her. 

“He is awfully pretty, isn’t he? But he’s a total ladies’ man, I promise you.” Tommy gave her a bold wink. “We both are.”

“Easy,” Oliver warned gently, sliding a plate of eggs and bacon to his friend and turning back to start again.

“Scrambled’s fine,” Felicity muttered, mortified, from behind her hands. Next to her Tommy chortled. 

“I’m putting peppers and onions in it, just so you know. You don’t eat enough vegetables.”

Felicity’s face popped up from behind her hands to protest. “Hey—“

He pointed at her without looking back. “Corn Nuts do not count. We’ve talked about this.”

She huffed a sigh and looked away, only to find Tommy watching her with one curious eyebrow lifted. 

When her plate and his were ready Oliver circled the counter and threw a leg over the bar stool on Tommy’s other side. “Made up your mind about flying or taking the train?”

Felicity stabbed her eggs. “I should fly. I have to finish my presentation.”

“Plenty of time on the train for that.”

“I need to fly. Besides, a train trip sounds expensive. I can’t ask you to cover both of us going.”

Tommy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You know who he is, right?”

“Shut up, Tommy. It’s not a problem, but I’ll do whatever you want. I’m gonna go take a shower.” 

Felicity didn’t miss the warning look he shot his friend before setting his empty plate in the sink and walking out of the room, but Tommy flipped on the small tv at the end of the counter to watch sports and ended any chance of her asking questions. 

She hauled her suitcase downstairs on her own and was sitting primly on a leather ottoman in Tommy’s living room when Oliver reappeared in a dark blue sweater with just a hint of white tee shirt sticking out underneath. Felicity pressed her lips together firmly to keep her thoughts on the inside. 

“Do you have time before your flight to drop me at the train station? If not, Tommy said he could do it.”

“I—oh. I, um, I haven’t picked a flight yet.”

Oliver stood and considered her silently for a moment. 

“No?”

She shook her head, feeling more ridiculous by the second. She’d made her choice, now she needed to follow through. 

“I can drop you at the station on my way,” she decided.

He nodded at the same time Tommy materialized over his shoulder. 

“You kids all set?”

Felicity stood and stepped forward as Oliver shifted their bags onto the porch. “Thank you for everything, Tommy. It was great to meet you.”

He bussed her cheek and then smiled down at her. “See ya around, I’m sure.”

She felt her brow contract in confusion but didn’t ask him to clarify since Oliver was back and the two of them were busy hugging and back slapping their goodbye. 

“Don’t be a stranger, yeah? And say hi to your folks for me.”

“Will do. Thanks, Tommy.”

“Any time, brother.”

Felicity groaned under her breath when she got into the damned stick shift car but started it on the first try all the same. Oliver looked impressed. 

The ride out of the suburbs was mostly silent save for Oliver’s directions. He was a good navigator and seemed to know the city's layout well. Felicity tried to imagine dropping him at the curb and driving on to the airport, never to see him again. She took a deep breath in through her nose and out her mouth before making her decision. 

“Is there, um, a rental car return near the train station?”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Felicity waited with the bags and people watched while Oliver bought the tickets. The train station was certainly an interesting place. 

He was running a hand through his hair as he returned, but she didn’t know him well enough yet to figure out if that meant bad news was coming with him.

“Did you get tickets?”

“Yep. It’s boarding now, we should hurry.”

“Is everything okay?”

“What? Oh, sure. It’s fine. It has its own bathroom, which is nice.”

“It?”

There was a pregnant pause as Oliver grabbed the handle of his suitcase but wouldn’t meet her eye.

“It,” he repeated. “They only had one bedroom compartment left. It has two beds,” he added quickly, already wincing at her potential explosion. 

Felicity could only shake her head. “This is like bad fan fiction,” she muttered to the air. 

She trailed him through the station, watching him check the train ticket and follow the overhead signs to their platform. The closer they got to their destination the more crowded it became; other travelers jostled them as they moved either to or away from the waiting trains. And then Oliver was glancing back at her and reaching a hand out to grab her and pull her closer, not allowing them to get separated.

Felicity stuck close, one hand on her suitcase handle and the other held protectively inside his, her mind a blank as she tried to process this new development. His broad shoulders made a great shield, preventing her from being bumped or stepped on as they negotiated the crowd on their way to the correct platform. She could smell him from this range, a mix of an understated cologne—or maybe deodorant—and whatever detergent he used. He stopped suddenly and she face planted softly against his sleeve with a small “oof”. It made her want to giggle.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” she grinned, slightly loopy on his scent and the feel of his warm firm grip on her hand. 

“This is it.”

She peeked out around his (very nice) bicep at the big silver train in front of them. Oliver looked back at her and winked.

“Here we go.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Felicity realized she was staring as he lifted her suitcase up onto the shelf and made herself look away. If she didn’t get it together this was going to be two very long days. She smoothed a hand over her tightly cinched ponytail and sighed.

“Well, what do you think?”

The room had two twin sized bunks and an upholstered armchair, a window, and a door to a minuscule bathroom. That was it.

“It’s...small.” Like, a mobile prison you have to pay to stay in small, she added in her head. 

“We don’t have to spend all our time here, you know. There’s a dining car for meals, and an observation car. You can work on your presentation interview thing while you watch the world go by. You’ll love it. Trust me.”

This was so not ideal, and she wanted to be mad, or at least annoyed, but she was finding she did trust him, dammit. 

“Do you prefer to be on top or bottom?”

Felicity stiffened, her face going hot. “I beg your pardon?”

Oliver huffed a laugh. “The bunks. Would you like the top or the bottom?”

“Oh. Um.” She studied them in what she hoped was a thoughtful manner, though she was really just trying to stop blushing. Honestly, the idea of sleeping in the bottom bunk had always made her nervous. What if the person above suddenly fell through? Ugh. It gave her shivers. 

“Top,” she decided. Oliver nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer.

“You hungry? Thirsty?” He looked so earnest Felicity almost laughed. 

“I could eat,” she decided. “Lead the way.”

The train started moving while they were walking down the hall; Felicity yelped as she lost her balance and Oliver shot an arm out to steady her. This time she was the one to reach for his hand and he took it immediately. They stayed that way until he ushered her in front of him at the entrance to the dining car and they were shown to their table.

Felicity scooted into her side of the booth with an eye on the neighborhoods of Chicago sliding past the window as the train picked up speed on its way out of the city. Heading west. Heading home. The thought filled her with something other than anxiety for the first time since she realized a hurricane was bearing down on Gotham.

“What?”

Her head swiveled back to Oliver in surprise. “What, what?”

“What has you smiling?”

She shrugged and tried not to blush as the server handed them their menus. “Just excited, I guess. I’ve never traveled by train before, unless it was the subway. You seem like you have, though.”

Oliver nodded without looking up from his menu but saved any further explanation until after they’d received their drinks and ordered lunch. When the server had moved on, he leaned his elbows on the table and gave her his full attention.

“I’ve known Tommy for as long as I can remember. His family and mine were very close when we were growing up. But then his mother died when we were nine years old. His father was—“ his eyes dropped to the table—“never the same, after. When we were twelve he moved them to Chicago, so the next summer and every one after that my parents let me take the train—this route, actually—out to stay with them for a month.”

“That’s why you know the city so well.”

He flashed her a quick grin, but he was clearly revisiting the past. “They lived downtown back then, and Malcolm was not a vigilant parent. We had the run of the city from an early age.” He huffed a laugh. “Probably way too early, actually.”

His soup and her salad showed up, so he paused his story to let them both take a few bites.

“We picked the same college here in the Midwest so we could be roommates. It made my dad furious that I didn’t go to his alma mater, but...” He shrugged.

“Se la vie?”

“Exactly.”

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“Oh, we try to get together once or twice a year. We meet up to ski or travel when we get the chance. Europe, Southeast Asia, wherever.”

“That’s pretty good though, considering.” She grinned, suddenly feeling flirty. “Do you still take the train?”

He smiled too. “No. It’s been many years since I rode the train.” His eyes lifted to scan the space around him before settling back on her. “It’s nice to be back.”

Their entrees arrived and they both focused on making a start before they resumed their conversation.

“What about you? Where did you go for college?” he asked.

“Boston. But I grew up in Las Vegas.”

“Mmm, I love Vegas.”

“Yeah? You wouldn’t say that if you lived there.”

“Probably not, but that’s true of a lot of places.” He took another bite of his sandwich before he went on. “So how did you end up in Starling?”

Felicity had been munching happily on her burger, but now her brow crinkled into a frown. “A job opportunity. Or at least that was the idea. Let’s just say it didn’t go as planned.”

Oliver quirked a brow. “Hence the impending job interview?”

“Sort of.”

“I feel like I’m missing something.”

Felicity sighed and set her burger down. “I thought I had my dream job lined up in Starling, so I moved across the country only to bomb my interview. Bomb isn’t the right word. I nuked it.” She paused to illustrate an explosion with her hands, complete with sound effects. Oliver winced in sympathy.

“I’d already spent the money to move, so I had to stay and find something else. The job I got has been a soul-sucking experience, to say the least.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry. But hopefully this interview on Friday will get you something better. Something you love.”

Felicity turned her attention to the view out the window, but she wasn’t really seeing it. “Maybe,” she said finally. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He hadn’t been exaggerating about her loving the observation car. It was crowded, but Oliver managed to find them two seats near the back and motioned for her to sit. The chairs were large and comfortable and swiveled so they could be turned toward the view out the windows. The windows themselves carried on up into the roof, which let in lots of sunlight and beautiful views of the clear blue sky. 

“Wow,” she managed finally. She’d brought her laptop but for several minutes only sat with it on her knees while she watched the scenery flying past. Oliver chuckled his agreement, leaning back in the neighboring chair and stretching out his legs to cross at the ankles.

Felicity made herself look away to get some work done while Oliver drifted off to sleep, but she found herself glancing up to peek at him from time to time. Since they were headed the same direction as the sun it stayed almost directly overhead through the afternoon, making her deliciously warm and sleepy, and eventually she stopped fighting it and curled up in her seat, work temporarily abandoned, to nap.

His head was tilted her direction when she woke; it was obvious he’d been watching her sleep. She blinked at him a couple of times, clearing the cobwebs from her brain, and the corners of his mouth lifted briefly.

“I like train travel,” she decided quietly, making his smile come back. She sat up and stretched before collecting the laptop she’d abandoned at her feet. 

“Get much work done?”

“Not much,” she admitted. “But I finished the research in Gotham, so now I just have to write it up. Shouldn’t take long.”

“You get out to Gotham a lot?”

He showed no sign of being eager to leave their spot so Felicity folded herself back into her chair and swiveled further to face him.

“Hardly ever. I called in a favor with a friend at Wayne Enterprises and managed to get some time in their labs.” She made a motion with her hand. “On the down low.”

Oliver’s eyebrows lifted. “Sneaking around behind Bruce Wayne’s back? Impressive.”

“It’s worse than that.” She grinned. “My friend IS Bruce Wayne.”

His brow contracted then, and Felicity felt a thrilling little shiver run up her spine: Oliver was clearly a bit jealous. The frown only lasted a second and then he readjusted to sit up straight.

“So what are you working on?” 

Felicity fought the urge to glance over her shoulder before speaking. It had been her secret for so long; even Bruce didn’t know exactly what she was working on. The best policy, she decided as she opened her mouth, was to be vague.

“It’s a bio stimulant implant the size of a microchip with a basically limitless battery that will hopefully help people with traumatic spinal injuries walk again.”

They both realized what she’d said at the same time. Oliver’s brows shot up into his hairline; hers did too, but for an entirely different reason.

“Frack,” she whispered under her breath.

Oliver chuckled. “It’s okay, Felicity, your secret’s safe with me.” He shook his head in wonder. “That sounds amazing. Where did you say you went to college?”

“I didn’t. MIT.”

His expression of wonder didn’t change. “Well I don’t know what company you interviewed with, but they were crazy not to hire you.”

Felicity rolled her eyes. “You had to be in that interview. Ugh.”

“What was so bad about it?” He leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. “Run me through it. Break it down.”

“What, like sports?” He grinned wickedly and she sighed. “I can’t believe you’re gonna Monday Morning Quarterback me.”

Oliver laughed. “Only if you want.” He glanced up behind her head at something. “You thirsty? We could get a drink before dinner.”

Felicity decided a little alcohol might help dull the pain from the memory and nodded. 

It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to slip her arm through his as they strolled to the club car. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So. The interview.”

Felicity scooped up her wine glass and took a healthy swallow to fortify herself just as their appetizer appeared at the table.

He raised an eyebrow. “You promised.”

“I did no such thing!”

Oliver waved a hand to indicate she should get first dibs on the mozzarella sticks before dipping his head to make her look at him. Felicity rolled her eyes dramatically and huffed a beleaguered sigh. 

“Okay.” She said it around a mouthful of cheese, dropping the remainder of her first stick back onto her plate and wiping her hands. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He grinned in that way he had, close-mouthed and dimples showing, and she almost choked on her bite; her eyes bugged as she swallowed.

“First of all, the power went out in my hotel the morning of the interview, so—“ she waved a hand around her head—“my hair was still wet when I got there. And I’m pretty sure there was still soap in it.” He chuckled and she pointed a warning finger at him. “Don’t laugh.”

“Sorry. Please continue.”

“You may have noticed I tend to babble when I’m nervous.”

“It has not escaped my attention.”

She nodded agreement. “And one of the heads of the company, I’m talking a VIP, was conducting the interview.” Felicity took another bite. “This is a woman I’ve seen on the cover of tech magazines. Sitting across the table from me. In Louboutins so new I could smell them.”

Again with the smirk. He was too much.

“I have no idea what all I said to her during those fifteen minutes. I’m pretty sure I blacked out for some of it. To top it all off my tablet wouldn’t talk to their system, so my presentation wouldn’t run. I basically had to explain my bio stimulant idea in interpretive dance, which is not a good look for someone with multiple degrees in Computer Science.”

Oliver groaned in sympathy but then leaned forward on his elbows. “All that sounds like purely bad luck. You weren’t incompetent, Felicity, just a—“ he waved a hand around before selecting his own mozzarella stick—“victim of circumstance. Did they give you any feedback afterward?”

She nodded as she swallowed her bite. “They said it was my lack of experience, which I can’t fault. I was coming straight out of graduate school. The degree looks good, but it doesn’t make up for actual work in the trenches. I think if the interview itself had gone better I might’ve convinced them to overlook that and give me a chance.”

“Well,” Oliver decided after a sip of beer, “it still doesn’t sound like you nuked it. And it seems like you have a second chance to show them what you can do.” His eyes flicked from the marinara dipping sauce up to her. “I assume that’s where you’re interviewing Friday?”

Felicity squirmed under his gaze. “The interview is actually with my current employer. For a promotion.”

Oliver studied her. “The soul-sucking one? Do you really want to do that?”

“I’m not sure I have much of a choice.” She sighed and shook her head quickly, wanting to change the subject so she didn’t have to think about it. “I’ve never asked what you do for a living. What had you out in Gotham just before a hurricane?”

Oliver took his time finishing his bite; stalling, she thought. 

“I work for my family’s company. I was out on the coast entertaining clients.”

“Entertaining.”

“Yes. You know, wine, women, and song. Stuff like that.”

Felicity tried to keep a serious face but failed miserably. “Is that your only job? Entertaining?” She pulled her lips in to keep from laughing, but he caught her anyway and mock glared.

“I have other roles. Ribbon cutting, check presentation. This particular one just happens to play into some of my strengths from college.” 

“I see. Did you major in Wine, Women, and Song?”

He tried to keep a straight face as he took a sip of beer but didn’t succeed.

“More or less.”

Felicity focused on dunking her last stick in sauce. “Well, there are worse jobs, I suppose.”

“Very true.” He paused. “But the older I get the more I wish they’d give me a chance to be more than a glorified party host.”

They chewed in silence for a moment, sucked down into mutual melancholy over the current state of their careers. Oliver swallowed and caught her eye.

“Another drink?”

“God yes.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Amtrak, as it turned out, made a pretty good steak. It wasn’t exactly a candlelit dinner in an intimate setting, but there were linen tablecloths and real napkins. Also, the baked potatoes were huge. 

“I know I’ve said this five times already but yum.” Felicity wiped her mouth and sighed in contentment. 

“Better than an airplane then?” There was a gleam in his eye as he said it. 

“Better than an airplane.”

Felicity smiled at him. This felt good. It felt right, crazy as it sounded, sharing a meal with this man she’d known less than 48 hours, rolling across the country and chasing the sunset. 

Of course, after two and a half glasses of wine everything felt right.

She swayed gently in her seat but told herself it was the train and not the alcohol. Trains were sway-ee. 

“I don’t think that’s a word.”

“What?”

Oliver smiled at her, a kind of indulgent look that transformed his face and told her she was adorable, even when she couldn’t control her brain to mouth connection. It crinkled the skin around his eyes and exposed his utterly fantastic cheekbones. He was—

“You’ll give me a complex if you’re not careful,” he said softly, looking down and brushing a crumb from the tablecloth. 

“Wha—what?” 

He chuckled. “You’re thinking out loud again. It might be time to call it a night.”

“Really?” Felicity pouted.

“Wait til you sleep on a train. It’s fantastic. Very soothing.”

“Are you going to sleep with me?”

Oliver coughed. “Sorry, what?”

Felicity felt her face turn red. Her filter—or whatever passed for it in her brain—was gone. Washed away in a sea of red wine. The Red Wine Sea. She giggled self-consciously.

“I didn’t mean SLEEP with me. I meant sleep with me. Sleep, sleep. Not...the other thing.”

He was already scooting out of the booth and reaching for her hand, but he was smiling. “I know what you meant, Felicity. You’re safe with me.” She was on her feet suddenly, and close to him. So close she had to tip her head back to look at him. He was tall. And looking deep into her eyes. “You know that, right?”

Felicity swallowed. “Know what?” She’d lost the thread of this conversation, but she didn’t really care. Everything was fuzzy and good and she felt like giggling again.

Oliver turned away with her hand in his but she pulled against him, leaning back on her heels and making him stop and turn to look over his shoulder.

“I want to do something first.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sunset was just a faint pink line separating the sky from the earth by the time they stepped into the observation car. The lights were dimmed, and the car was practically empty. Above them, unencumbered out here by light pollution, the night sky had exploded with stars; Felicity gasped when she saw it. Her hand slipped down from his arm and their fingers entwined as they took in the view.

“It’s...”

“Remarkable,” he finished, but when she glanced over Oliver was looking at her, not the stars.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Felicity awoke slowly, feeling fuzzy and parched and a little achy. The sunlight peeking around the edges of the window shade let her know it was probably time to be up, but the constant movement of the train was so comforting, she was tempted to let it lull her back to sleep.

Wait. Train? Her eyes popped back open and she stared at the ceiling as she tried to puzzle out why the hell she was on a train. 

Train.

Oliver.

Oliver!

She peeked her head slowly over the side of the bed, but the room appeared to be empty. His bed had been slept in, at least. Felicity sighed and ran her fingers through her hair and then flung the covers off and set about getting out—down? She had no memory of getting UP—from bed.

She was careful going down the ladder; the last thing she needed on this trip was a visit to the ER. How that would even be accomplished from a moving train she had no idea. Did the ambulance have to match speed, racing alongside as they passed her across on a stretcher? That didn’t seem right. 

She stopped thinking about it because thinking made her head hurt. A cursory inspection told her she was unharmed and dressed in her pjs. Had she dressed herself or...

Too much. Too much to think about. Felicity squeezed into the ridiculously tiny bathroom—it was like camping at 60 miles per hour—to take care of things and put her hair in a haphazard ponytail. Her suitcase was basically unreachable on its high shelf in her current condition, but Oliver’s denim jacket was laying over the arm of the chair, waiting to be worn. Calling out to her. 

Felicity slipped her arms into the giant sleeves and wiggled her feet into her shoes. 

She found him in the observation car, in the same seat he’d occupied the day before. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, cradling a cup of coffee in both hands. Oliver looked up as she approached and smiled softly; he looked exhausted. 

She opened her mouth to say hi but her eyes raised to the view out the window first and all thoughts vanished: sunrise over the northern plains had turned the world into a canvas of light and texture that, even hungover, she wanted to drink in. 

“Oh...”

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“It’s...”

“I know.”

The tone of his voice finally brought her around. Felicity dropped her gaze to his face and tried to process the way he was looking at her. Oliver waved to the empty chair next to him and she tucked herself up into it. When his eyes skimmed over the jacket she blushed. 

“Couldn’t get my suitcase down,” she explained. 

“It’s okay. Looks good on you.”

She was swimming in it, so probably not, but it was sweet of him to say. 

He offered his coffee to her without comment, and any other day she would be sorely tempted, but her stomach flipped and she blanched and waved him off. Also, it appeared to be black; how someone could drink coffee with no cream or sugar or seasonal flavoring was beyond her. 

His mouth quirked into a brief smile. “A little rough this morning?”

Felicity attempted a nod and immediately regretted it. “Mmhmm,” she offered instead. If she didn’t move her head, she could keep looking at the beautiful scenery without wanting to die. 

“What...exactly...happened last night? After the observation car?”

Oliver took a sip of coffee. “I was wondering when you lost the thread.” His fingers rotated the paper cup as he spoke. “After the observation car you talked me into going back to the club car where you had one more drink and then sang karaoke for an hour.”

Felicity cringed. “I didn’t know they even had karaoke on trains.”

“They don’t.”

Her eyes tracked slowly to him; he was expressionless except for an amused twinkle in his eye.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I am...SO sorry.”

Oliver chuckled. “It’s okay. It was cute. The bartender was pretty good at harmonizing. You made a good team.”

“Oh. God.” 

“Hey. Look at me.”

She cracked open the eye closest to him.

“It’s okay, Felicity. I didn’t mind taking care of you.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He stood and offered her his hand. “Ready to go get your suitcase down?”

She unfolded from the seat and let him stabilize her as they moved through the car.

“I still have questions.”

“Shoot.”

“How did I get into my pjs?”

“You did that.”

“And into bed?”

“Well, I did that. You gave it a good try first, though.”

“Oh God, Oliver.”

He chuckled as he held the door for her. “You were adorable. Even the conductor thought so.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Felicity’s stomach rallied in time for lunch and then she climbed—unassisted—back into her bunk and fired up her laptop. She finished her presentation while Oliver napped below her; she would pause every few minutes to listen for his soft snores, and once she leaned out over the edge to look at him. He’d confessed over their meal that he’d feared she’d fall out of bed in the middle of the night and break her neck, so he’d hardly slept. She’d vehemently opposed the idea of sleeping on the bottom bunk when he suggested it, which had eventually brought the conductor down to check on all the commotion.

She blushed fiercely every time she thought about it. 

Oliver stirred and sat up just as she saved her finished presentation and shut down her computer. 

“C’mon,” he said softly. “Let’s take a walk.”

They grabbed a soda in the club car and wandered back to the observation car. The view out the windows had changed to oil fields and miles and miles of freight cars. Felicity jumped the first time a train passed them going the other direction at sixty miles an hour and they both laughed. 

Dinner was quiet; neither of them drank. They found little reason for small talk, preferring to say everything necessary with just looks and smiles. Every time Felicity thought of their arrival in Starling City the following morning, she got an achy feeling in her chest, like the end of something precious was approaching.

They sat up late in the club car and didn’t return to their compartment until almost midnight. Oliver waited in the hallway to give her privacy so she could get ready and tucked into her bunk before going to bed himself.

They lay in the dark for several minutes before Felicity spoke up.

“Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

“I have a confession.”

“Okay.”

“The presentation isn’t for my interview Friday. I don’t work at some fancy company. I work at Tech Village. It was the only job I could find. I’m interviewing for a promotion to Assistant Manager.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “The research on the implant is, well...I spent my entire savings on the plane ticket to Gotham just to prove to myself that my idea isn’t crazy. That I’m not actually a failure. I...I just thought you should know.”

“Felicity, I think your idea is brilliant. And I think you should approach that first company and ask for another chance to prove yourself. You owe it to yourself to find out if things could be different.”

She nodded into the dark but didn’t dare try to answer; a tear crept down her cheek.

Below her Oliver sighed. “I have a confession too.”

“‘Kay.” She sniffed discreetly.

“I didn’t lose my driver’s license in Gotham. Not the way you think, anyway. The night before we met, I was entertaining clients, like I said, but things got out of hand and I ended up getting arrested. I spent several hours in the city jail and had my license revoked. As soon as we get to Starling, I have to come clean to my family and go to court and probably do community service.” 

He sighed into the dark and she turned over, tempted to climb down the ladder and give him a hug. 

“I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t tell you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, though it didn’t seem adequate for the way she felt.

“You’re the one who deserves the thanks. I went to that airport having no idea how I would get home. If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably still be in Gotham somewhere, riding out a hurricane.”

“Well I couldn’t have escaped without your credit card and your crash course in manual transmissions. No pun intended.” She heard him huff a laugh. “So really I should be thanking you.”

“I guess we made a pretty good team.”

She smiled into the dark. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Good night, Felicity.”

“Night.”

Far off in the distance, a whistle at the front of the train announced their arrival at another crossing. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oliver Queen sat at his desk and stared out the window at the building across the street. The woman who had the office opposite him kept a variety of plants in the window and was giving them their daily drink of water. 

“Oliver? Your mother would like to see you.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed his suit jacket. It was only four floors; he took the stairs. 

It had been exactly one week since he had parted from Felicity at the Starling City train station with a handshake. A handshake, for God’s sake, when what he’d really wanted to do was kiss her. He’d wanted to do that for days by that point, but at the last second he was afraid of ruining the bond they’d formed beginning the moment she demanded he teach her how to drive a stick shift. The memory made him chuckle as he flipped a wave to his mother’s EA and pushed through the glass door into her office. 

“Oliver, I want you to sit in on the interview I have in a few minutes.”

“Okay. Any particular reason?”

Moira Queen rolled her eyes without actually changing expression. It was one of her superpowers. “You’ve asked for more responsibility, so I’m giving it to you. I want your input on this potential new hire.” She passed him on her way out the door he was holding open. “Research and Development doesn’t really have an opening at the moment, but this person comes with a rather special referral letter.”

“From who?”

She glanced back at her son with a knowing smile. “Bruce Wayne.”

Oliver groaned. 

The head of HR and a representative from R&D were already seated at the conference table when they took their seats. Oliver smoothed his tie as his mother exchanged pleasantries, only half listening. 

“Here we go again, eh?” the HR VP was saying. 

Moira pretended to fix her perfect hairdo. “Well it can’t be any worse than last time. I never did figure out what she was trying to say about my shoes. I assume it was an attempt at a compliment, though who could tell?” They both chuckled. 

“If what you’ve said about this idea of hers is legitimate,” the R&D rep put in, “I don’t care how awkward she is. A bio stimulant implant that could reverse paralysis? That could be a game changer.”

Oliver became very focused on the conversation going on around him. He sat forward and loosened his tie, suddenly warm.

“But she has no experience,” his mother was saying. “Can we be sure the work is even hers?”

“Mom...”

“Exactly my point. Her resume says she currently works at...Tech Village.”

“Mom, I...”

Moira gestured through the glass at her EA, the signal to send in their victim. Oliver stood up.

“Mom, I need to speak to you. Now.”

She frowned at him. “Oliver, what—“

“Outside. Please.”

She sighed elegantly and rose to follow him out into the hall opposite the one occupied by the EA. Damn Queen Consolidated’s glass offices; Oliver grabbed his mother’s elbow and gently steered her further away from the fishbowl of a conference room.

“What is it, Oliver? I have a lot of appointments today—“

“Mom, the person you’re about to interview. I know it didn’t go well the last time, but I’m telling you, she’s the real deal. Felicity’s brilliant, and she learns so fast it’ll make your head spin. She has amazing ideas, and she’s funny, and kind, and you have to give her a second chance. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

Moira searched her son’s face, confused. “Oliver, you know this young woman?”

“Yes. She deserves this chance. Please.”

She studied him a moment longer. “I’ll...I’ll keep your recommendation in mind. But right now we’re keeping her waiting.”

He squeezed her elbow when she tried to turn away. “Mom, I—I can’t be in the interview.” She raised an eyebrow and waited. “It would be a conflict of interest.”

“Oh, Oliver.” She sighed and gave him the look she usually reserved for Robert Queen.

“No, it’s not like that. She’s a friend. I traveled cross country with her last week to get away from that hurricane. She learned to drive a stick in under ten minutes in an airport parking lot and then drove us twelve hours to Tommy’s, and...” He sighed. “I can’t.”

Moira extracted her arm gently from his grip and smoothed a hand over his sleeve. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Thanks. And mom?” She turned to look over her shoulder and he gave her a brief grin. “Be nice.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ONE YEAR LATER

“Here ya go. I got you the big bottle, just in case.”

“Ungh. Thanks.” Felicity fiddled with the cap ineffectually until he grabbed it back and opened it for her. 

Oliver watched her take a swig before popping a pill. She chased it with more water and wiped her mouth. She was sweating; actual beads of sweat were forming on her forehead. He laid the back of his hand there to check for fever. 

“I’m okay. I’ll be okay. This is fine. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine, Felicity. Is this—“

“Normal?” She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth again. “Unfortunately, yes.”

A flight attendant passed them with an eye out for seatbelt violators and Felicity handed him back the water bottle so she could check hers for the fifteenth time.

“How come you never told me you were afraid to fly?” Oliver prodded gently, still stunned by what he’d witnessed over the last twenty minutes. 

“Six months ago, when I insisted we drive seventeen hours to Las Vegas to visit my mother, I thought that would be a clue.”

“I figured you just wanted a road trip.”

She shook her head quickly and moaned as the plane shifted back from the gate. 

“Nope.” She closed the shade over her window quickly. “You’re sure there isn’t a train we could take this time?”

That surprised a laugh out of him. “There is, in fact, no train that will get us all the way to Hawaii, Felicity.” Oliver clicked his tongue in sympathy and took her hand. “I wish you’d said something, honey. We could’ve picked somewhere closer for a honeymoon.”

“No way. I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii. This will be fun. As soon as the pills kick in.”

Oliver was still trying to process. “The day we met. At the airport. You...you flew out from Starling and were trying to get back...”

Felicity smiled for the first time in hours, though it was strained. “The pills work, I’m telling you.”

“And until then?”

“Until then...oh God.”

The plane began accelerating toward take off.

“Felicity, look at me.” He waited until she opened her eyes. “It’s going to be fine. I love you.” And then he leaned toward her and captured her lips with his own.

She melted against him as the world dropped away.

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist (Sorry I don't have links.) I'm not a country fan, per se, but American road trips kind of demand it.
> 
> Daphne Blue, by The Band CAMINO  
> Life is a Highway, by Rascal Flats  
> Big Black Car, by Gregory Alan Isakov (mostly this one)  
> Kinfolks, by Sam Hunt  
> This Life, by Vampire Weekend  
> When We Drive, by Death Cab for Cutie  
> Those Diamonds, by The Freddy Jones Band  
> Go, by The Black Keys  
> Stretch of the Highway, by James Taylor  
> Wide Open Spaces, by The Dixie Chicks  
> Us, by Luca Stricagnoli
> 
> Thanks to Amtrak's website for teaching me all about train travel. I know I put stuff in my cart on several occasions. Please stop sending me ads. And big thanks to my mom for answering all the weird train questions I had that Amtrak didn't answer. She's taken the same Empire Builder trip across the country twice, because she loves my dad and he loves trains. The only thing I didn't verify for accuracy was whether you could get on a train in the US without valid ID (probably not). I also don't know if Amtrak's baked potatoes are, in fact, huge.


End file.
